


The Fallen King

by sometimes_thinky



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_thinky/pseuds/sometimes_thinky





	The Fallen King

A soft, barely there sigh slips from between his ragged lips. I know he is struggling, clinging onto the edge of the crumbling precipice, hovering over the black abyss of nothing that is slowly stretching out its hooked claws just to drag him under.  
But this is one battle he cannot win. 

The lush, lakeside grass is damp. With water from the sky or my stinging eyes i do not know.  
The sky is overcast, occasional misty drops marking the deathlike pallor of his face. 

The shining silver chain-mail belted around his waist is marred by red. Leaking through the ragged hole torn by the mortal blow he was dealt.  
I cannot lift him, so am forced to drag him unceremoniously to the to the place where the crystal water laps the banks. 

Through grief and exhaustion my knees finally give way, crumpling beneath our combined weights.  
A sob breaks through my mask of silence, tapping me down on the floor beneath his rapidly cooling body. He whispers my name in a shallow breath, barely any air tickling the hand of mine that rests on his chest. 

I reply quietly, calming myself.  
He looks up at me, blue eyes duller than usual., trying to force the words out that block his airways and tie his tongue.  
"Just, hold me." He finally gasps, each breath and word sapping more life from him. My heart thumps against my ribs, feeling like it's shattering each one. I can see by the relaxed angles of his shoulders and jaw.He has resigned himself to his death. I force my mouth shut, biting my chapped lips to silence the strangled scream in my throat.  
His chest rises and falls with a final great heave, pale lavender eyelids closing almost peacefully over those previously lively blue eyes. They now lack the mischievous spark that used to engulf my soul. I throw my head back and bellow at the thick, unmoving, heavy grey clouds. He is finally still, drifting away into a world i cannot follow into. 

Arthur Pendragon, The King of Camelot, the uniter of the lands, my master, the merciful lord, the once and future king,  
my best friend.  
He's gone.


End file.
